


in the land of gods and monsters, i was an angel

by babykanima



Series: the devil you know [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, demon!Derek, reaper!stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-29
Updated: 2014-01-29
Packaged: 2018-01-10 12:19:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1159669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babykanima/pseuds/babykanima
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>See, the thing is, being a reaper is hard work, okay?</p><p>And that was before demons started making deals with everybody.</p>
            </blockquote>





	in the land of gods and monsters, i was an angel

**Author's Note:**

> please note: there is a very brief imagining of 9/11 in this. i'm so sorry, it just kind of happened.
> 
> come and [ visit me ](http://clintssecretfamily.tumblr.com/)

There’s a boy having an asthma attack in the middle of the forest and he’s going to die alone and scared and thinking of his mother.

It sounds pretty terrible, and his mother probably will be devastated – most mothers generally are – and it _is_. It _is_ terrible because Death is _always_ terrible.

It’s not pretty, either.

But well, his time is done.

It’s fate.

He’s watching a boy have an asthma attack in the middle of the forest, biting his lip as he waits patiently for the boy to be able to see him.

It’s one of the slower deaths and he really hates those. Give him a bullet through the head or a beheading any day. Dragging it on seems so _pointless_.

He crouches down, brushing his hand across the boy’s cheek, feeling the life fade from the body with that single touch.

“Holy crap.”

He definitely doesn’t flail a little at the voice coming from behind him, even though he was unprepared as usual for _where_ exactly the souls pop up after their bodies stop functioning. “Oh my—holy crap is _right_ , dude. You can’t just sneak up on people like that, not cool.”

The boy is staring down at his own body, “Am I _dead_?”

Stiles twists his mouth, pushing himself up to move away from the now useless body so he could step closer to the soul. “Yeah. Yeah you are, dude.”

“B-but I have school in the morning.” His eyes widen in horror, “My mom is gonna _kill_ me.”

Stiles snorts, “That ship has sailed, my friend.” At the boys horrified look he can’t help but wince in sympathy, “Too soon, right? Duh. But hey, hey look at me, bright side; you can breathe again, right?”

The boy takes a deep breath, probably the deepest he’s ever taken if that asthma has been around for years, “Yeah.” And he smiles, it’s small but it’s _there_ , and Stiles grins back because this is gonna be an easy one.

“You ready to see your new digs? Breathe in that heavenly air—pun intended—see the sights?”

“I’m going to Heaven?”

“Of course you are, Scott.” He tells the boy seriously because Scott’s soul is so good. He’s so innocent. “You ready?”

With one last sad look at his body the boy nods and Stiles can’t help but mentally pat himself on the back because he so called this.

He loves the easy ones.

* * *

See, the thing is that being a reaper is hard work, okay?

When Death breathed him alive all those years ago and told him where to go, who to kill, who to guide, he never actually thought it would be this _exhausting_.

But that’s what it is.

Exhausting.

He’s only a few thousand years young and he feels so _old_.

It’s _exhausting_ having to watch people die, having to get the timing just so. And then, when they’re actually dead, well. Of course nobody actually wants to _leave_.

It’s all ‘oh but this’, ‘oh but that’, ‘oh but I didn’t get the chance to’.

It’s freaking _hard_ trying to convince them that what’s coming is better.

And don’t even get him _started_ on the Buddhists.

In fact, out of all the angel-related jobs there are, Stiles is just gonna go ahead and call this for the single most complicated one ever, no matter what those douchebags up in Tech Support say.

So for a millennia Stiles has ferried souls to the next stage in life and you know what? That’s fine.

He can deal.

He didn’t _choose_ this but whatever, he’s an Angel and historically speaking, giving Angels free will tends to lead to rebellion and a sudden appearance of Hell so giving him a choice is probably not the best idea. So yeah, he can deal.

But then those goddamned demons showed up and started making deals all over the place and suddenly not only did his duties _double_ but he had to start battling those goddamned Hell Hounds just to get a hand on the poor souls so he can end their suffering and _then_ convince those souls to keep their end of a deal _he had no part of._

And convincing people to go to the next stage of life is really freaking hard in general and almost impossible when that stage involves _torture_.

So yeah, being a reaper is hard freaking work.

* * *

“ _Another one?”_ He snarls as he watches the shaking woman stumble towards her car and away from the crossroad she just damned her soul at.

Her destiny is changing in front of his very eyes, shifting to include her new, shorter deadline and his eyes shine with regret at the thought; Monica Reyes’ daughter is no longer epileptic but the woman only has ten years to enjoy it before Stiles has to go and collect her.

The demon turns his smirk on him, “I’ve got to pay the bills somehow, Stiles.”

Stiles winces in mock-sympathy, “Oh yeah, I’d imagine the price of air conditioning must get pretty high down in the Pit – what with the brimstone and fire thing you’ve got going on.”

Derek grins at him, eyes flashing black as they travel from Stiles’ head to his toes and then back up, “You’re more than welcome to come see for yourself, Stiles.”

He snorts, “Depends. You gonna call off your little Hell Hounds when I have to collect her?” He tilts his head in the direction Monica Reyes had driven off.

Derek’s smirk remains steadfastly in place even as the skin around his eyes tighten, “You know I can’t, Stiles.” And he even sounds vaguely apologetic about it, go figure.

“What I _know_ is that it really freaking hurts getting clawed up by your little pets when I’m just trying to do my job.”

“Then next time, just wait until they’re _done_.” The demon says through gritted teeth.

In a blink he’s gone and Stiles is left standing alone at a crossroad he has no real place standing on, feeling strangely less lonely than he was less than an hour ago.

* * *

There are three places a soul can go when it’s time is up.

Heaven, of course, the one everybody wants.

Hell, the one _nobody_ wants but since the whole Cain-thing, a shocking amount of people end up in regardless (see, free will, not a great idea).

And then there was Purgatory.

Purgatory wasn’t a _destination_ per se, regardless of what those hunters have been telling one another. The little beasties of the night do not go there because  they’re terrible or animals or anything like that because if they were terrible they’d go to Hell and if they were animals he has no idea where they’d go but he’s betting on that whole reincarnation thing.

Purgatory was created by Lilith to keep her children safe from humans.

Purgatory was the _way_ to their Heaven.

A Heaven that’s just a bit more difficult to get _into_ , for obvious reasons (those reasons being that humans aren’t allowed to get through it, and the rabid, feral creatures must let go of their sicknesses before they can pass) than the Heaven of their human counterparts.

Stiles reaped Derek’s sister Laura.

He watched as she was attacked by her uncle for petty reasons, worthless reasons. He brushed his hand against her cheek as she choked on her own blood, watched her cry and scream and curse at the man she’d grown up adoring and then calmly told her that it was time to go home.

She was a surprisingly easy job, actually.

She thanked him when he was done explaining that all she had to do was continue walking until she found the end of her road, that it would be really, really hard and she’d probably die a few more times in the interim but at the end her family was waiting.

It’s worth it, he told her.

Then, when she asked what would happen to her beta; Your brother won’t be along for a while. He’s got at least another thirty years left, Laura. I promise that time will fly, though.

Derek sold his werewolf soul for revenge and damned himself from ever reuniting with his family.

Stiles never made another promise again.

* * *

“What is it, do you think?”

Around them, hundreds of reapers were standing stock still, though surprisingly they weren’t the only ones talking. They were all curious about their latest orders, over why they had all felt the same pull to the city that never sleeps.

“Another Pompeii?” a reaper to his left wonders, looking around at the other reapers surrounding them.

Behind him, a reaper named Isaac rolls his eyes. “There are no volcanos in New York.”

“More likely another war.” Lydia sighs, looking bored as usual. “The humans haven’t had one for a while.”

“That’s true.” Stiles muses, thinking of Germany a few years ago. None of them had been able to rest for _years_. Every time a soul had departed, another was ready to go. “Those camps were horrible. Reapers crawling all over each other just to get to their charges.”

Lydia hums in agreement, “They’re terrible, these humans.”

“They keep the bills paid.” He replies without thinking.

Her eyes snap towards his and she opens her mouth – probably to yell at him – when they see it.

The hundreds of souls in the two towers ahead of them thankfully _don’t_.

* * *

“You look tired,” Derek says. “I didn’t know reapers could look tired.”

His lips twist in amusement, “Derek, what you don’t know about reapers could fill a book.”

The demon scowls, though it’s clearly an act because his eyes remain fond. They always do, around Stiles. “What I don’t know about _you_ could fill the grand canyon.” He retorts.

What I know about _you_ , Stiles wants to say, breaks my non-existent heart. He doesn’t though because that would be weird.

Just because Stiles remembers when the Hell Hounds came for Derek and has the image of the werewolf shining his eyes and growling at them in defiance (when underneath all that he’d been so _scared_ ) forever etched in his mind. Just because Stiles remembers that he’d just been a kid really, twenty two and an omega all alone when he’d traded his soul for a year and revenge.

(And though he’d gotten his revenge he still only got a _year_ when he was supposed to have at least thirty because Stiles _had promised his sister_ ).

Just because Stiles broke protocol to end his torment almost as soon as it started, ending his life before it was supposed to stop, doesn’t mean Derek would do the same.

What Stiles feels (and geez, free-will _sucks_ ) doesn’t have any bearing on what Derek feels – even if his eyes soften and his hands move to touch Stiles whenever they’re in contact– and thinking a demon likes him is honestly just plain _stupid_.

(though if it _was_ anybody but the two of them he’d call it something rather specific but it’s Stiles and Derek and it’s an impossibility)

“There’s going to be another war.” He says eventually. “Word’s been passed down so the reapers are preparing.” The demons might not know this already, he realises just a moment too late but then, it doesn’t technically matter. Reapers are neutral and it’ll all end the same way regardless of who the messenger between the two factions is.

Though Derek doesn’t seem surprised when he nods, “And after this one there’ll be another and then another. Humans _do_ like their gratuitous violence and glorious deaths.” He says contemptuously.

The demon probably remembers Germany too. Had more than likely made quite a few deals during that time, though Stiles hadn’t seen him in almost the entirety of World War II.

They’re both quiet for a long time and already Stiles can feel the pull of a soul ready to depart but he just wants to sit for a moment, here with Derek.

“I’m exhausted.” He finds himself saying. “Aren’t you exhausted?”

“Reapers can get tired?”

“Oh, you have no idea.” He glowers meaningfully, “Especially since you demons came around.”

Said demon grins, sharp teeth flashing in the sunlight, “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.” He sighs, “You make so many deals and I have to run around trying to keep up. Between you and cancer I have absolutely no down time.”

“Well, how else am I going to get your attention?”

And wait, what?

“ _What_?”

But with a flash of a seriously wicked grin Derek vanishes and Stiles is left staring open-mouthed at the empty space in front of him with the pull of a soul ready to leave tugging at him.

_“Are you kidding me?”_


End file.
